Always
by TheIndianMuggle
Summary: Rose is getting late for a funeral. But Ron has got something to say.


English is not my first language. I apologize for grammar and spelling mistakes.

To make it clear, Rose is 17 in this fic.

DISCLAIMER:- Definitely not JKR.

**Summary:- Rose is getting late for a funeral. But Ron has got something to say.**

* * *

It was hot for a March afternoon. Sun was blazing hot. The Weasley House, located in a Muggle neighbourhood, was very quiet. A rare occurrence. Rose Weasley was descending down the stairs dressed in a black. A dress that was gift from her cousin, Victoire. Despite their age difference, they were pretty close. Never had she thought she'd be wearing that dress to a funeral.

She was currently in huge hall of her house when she saw him.

"Ready?" His voice was calm as a sea. Far from what she was feeling.

"Don't I look ready?" She couldn't help but ask sarcastically.

He merely smiled. She always had admired his patience. But it was only irritating her now.

"You look beautiful, Rosie."

Normally such compliment from her father would've her blushing, but not now.

"I wasn't trying to look beautiful. It's a funeral." She said. Not liking his so _normal_ behavior. She was going to attend a funeral after all.

"You cannot not look beautiful if you try Rose."

This time, she did blush.

Composing herself, she asked a question she'd been wanting to ask since the moment she saw him.

"Why are you here dad?"

He frowned. "I came to meet you. I wanted to catch you before you left for the funeral."

"You're not coming?" That was hardly a question. She knew he won't.

He sighed. "We've had this conversation before Rose. Your mum-"

"I know. I know." She cut him. "I'm getting late Dad."

She started walking towards the door. Only to be stopped by his voice.

"How's Hermione?"

"She's been…quiet." Because that was the best way to describe her.

He nodded.

"How're you?"

She turned to face him. He was a bit surprised to see her eyes filled with tears.

"How do you think?" She all but shouted.

"You're angry." It was not a question.

"I'm Dad. And I've got all the reasons to be. It wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to die!" She collapsed on the sofa now openly sobbing.

Ron, instinctively, ran towards her to catch her only to find his hands passing right through her. He looked at his silvery translucent hand and sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry."

She didn't reply. He wished he could hold her like he always did when she cried. He remembered another time when he'd felt this helpless. When Hermione was being tortured. And there's nothing he could've done then.

He waited for her to compose herself. She looked at him with red eyes and asked, "Why?"

How does someone answer that question?

"My time had come Rosie. I had lived my life."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "You're 43 dad. How is that a full life?"

He wished he'd a satisfactory and good answer for her. But he settled for the truth.

"I had you, Hugo and Hermione for such a long time. I lived my share."

She was not even remotely satisfied. She looked outside the window. Sun was shining bright. Why wasn't it raining?

"She won't talk." She was still looking out the window.

He didn't need to ask who she's referring to. "Then you've wait until she does."

"But what if she doesn't? She's ignoring everybody. Even Uncle Harry. And he doesn't look so good himself."

"They're strongest people I know. They'll be fine."

She looked at her watch again. She should've been at The Burrow 20 minutes before.

"I need to go, Dad."

"Yes, you do. You know I won't be here when you come back, right?"

She nodded. Fresh tears leaking from her tightly shut eyes.

"I know." She barely managed to say it. She started walking toward the door again. His voice once again stopped her.

"Promise me one thing Rose."

She turned back to find him standing, _floating, _barely a foot away from her.

"Anything, dad."

"Promise me, 1st March will always be my birthday. And not the day I died."

Mustering up all her Gryffindor courage, she smiled. First genuine smile in 2 days. She looked at him in his now-slivery eyes which still held same brilliance and confidence she always had seen in her father.

"Always."

Speaking no more, she turned and moved out of the house and apparated to his father's childhood home. She had a funeral to attend.

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How's it? Would love to hear from you. Thanks for your time.

TIM.


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